For those who know me — or read my column — it’s not too much of a stretch to say I’m a vain individual. Of course, realizing that vanity and healthy habits go hand in hand, I’m constantly in search of a vitamin or supplement to ingest that will give me glowing skin, shiny hair and a nonexistent waistline.

I’m not a believer in fad diets or a magic pill, but I am a believer in that God gave us everything here on this earth that we need to replenish our bodies and prolong the aging process, including but not limited to doctors, hairstylists, estheticians and LED lights — God bless them.

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The first time I exited Interstate 20 exit 81 and came across the bridge, I had no idea what I was getting myself into riding front seat with the windows down into what appeared to be a town full of black and gold tiger fans and old school box chevy’s with cartoon characters painted on the doors.

For about as long as I can remember, my image of Ruston founder Robert Edwin Russ was that of a dour, cunning man with a cold personality.

The bronze, eyeless bust of the city’s founder that stares blankly at everybody who enters the foyer at the Civic Center, must do Russ justice, I figured.

After all, it was Russ, native Floridian-turned Louisianan by way of Alabama and Mississippi, who cut a deal with the Vicksburg, Shreveport & Pacific Railroad that knocked Vienna out of being the parish seat. Talk about sly and a bit mercenary.

When I found out this week that Kevin Reeves and Briley Pollard, students at the Louisiana Center for the Blind, would be performing during Saturday’s Happy Holidays Farmers Market, I started thinking about how many sightless musicians I admire.

A buddy and I were talking the other day. He was having some issues with a friend of his. He went on and on about his friend’s failings. After listening for a while — and I don’t know why the idea popped into my head — I stopped him and said: Well, everybody’s got an asterisk.

He asked me what I meant. I thought for a minute then said: Everybody I know, including me, has an asterisk — something that better explains who that person is and how they got that way. I would think it’s pretty hard for anyone to go from birth to death with having an asterisk.